Son of Adam
by pisces97
Summary: A dream is all I can remember before my adventures began. A dream so vivid, so eloquently surreal, it could have been only just a dream. But indeed not, it was a message. A message sent to me by the Great Lion. A calling card, if you will. And whether or not I wanted to answer, this adventure began.
1. Chapter 1

A dream is all I can remember before my adventures began. A dream so vivid, so eloquently surreal, it could have been only _just_ a dream. But indeed not, it was a message. A message sent to me by the Great Lion. A calling card, if you will. And whether or not I wanted to answer, this adventure began.

I awoke in a forest, with a single golden ray of sunlight angled perfectly across the span of my blue eyes, making me blink curiously awake. For, I fear I must tell you, I did not know where I lie or how I had come to be here.

I looked around to the forest trees encaging me on all sides. The morning light cast rays through the branches and leaves of the trees in such a way that I was not scared. No, it was too beautifully serene to say that I was frightened. I was rather stunned with awe at this mysterious place's beauty. However, when the leaves rustled softly in the breeze, I thought my ears had deceived me when I thought I heard a tree sigh of delight at the cool air.

I rubbed my eyes and looked to the direction of the sound, a hint of disbelief beginning to churn around inside me. I thought I had been alone.

I wasn't, and I never was.

As I stood to investigate the noise, and dusted off my blue jeans (I frowned at a dirt stain on my left knee), I heart the faintest twitch of a branch behind me. I swerved around; quick reactions run in my family.

And what I saw was both frightening and elegant. A chill and spike of fear dug its way, eating at my heart, as did a paw of inspirational awe. What I saw before me was a lion.

The lion's eyes were round and wise, staring straight into my eyes, down to my very soul; he had a gaze so deep. He stood still as I, even as I was petrified with a mix of emotions, his bearing was much more accustomed to authority. The lion's stance between two trees, one dangerously sharp clawed paw raised up top a flat rock, was majestic. His fur coat and mane glowed in the sunlight.

"Son of Adam," the lion spoke in a deep calm voice, "Come, we must seek shelter from these woods." The noble beast turned its back on me, a flick in its tail, and began walking onward into the forest. He paused only a moment, to look back at me and raised his head in a nod, "Cair Paravel is in need of your aid." The lion seemed to smile and his dark eyes glistened.

And then, nothing.

I was awake again, severed from my dream like a cut phone line. I was back in my bedroom, in the year 2012.

I blinked my eyes at my window, saddened and rather disappointed a dream so raw and lovely had to end so quickly.

But this was the last day I was to have this peculiar dream, and the first of my adventures.

****There it is! The beginning to my story! Remember: Any recognizable characters, places, ideas etc. belong to Mr. C. S. Lewis. Writing infringement not intended. Enjoy!****


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two:

I rolled to the other side of my bed, turning away from my window and took a look at my alarm clock. 8:10 stared back at me with bright green numbers. I sighed, rolled onto my back, and sat up.

There was a quick, quiet grouping of knocks on the other side of my bedroom door. I knew that little hand anywhere.

"Come in." I yawned.

When my door creaked open, a tiny freckled nose paired with one dark brown eye poked through the opening. "Can I come in?" her small, six-year-old voice rings like a little bell in my ears.

I nodded, "I already said you could, Charlotte," I opened my arms and waited for her to fill the space between them.

She flung open the door and ran, padding over to me, her viciously curly hair bouncing and flying behind her. Under her arm was a worn, stitched, and stuffed puppy that had patches in several places.

Immediately behind her, scampered in a tan dachshund with its tongue flying and his beady eyes glinting. He jumped up on my bed after Charlotte had situated herself in my lap.

He barked and licked my face with a slobbery wet tongue. I pushed him away and laughed as he sat down beside me, his furry tail wagging happily.

Charlotte pat him on his head as he licked his chops and layed down. "Peanut is excited to see you, Matty," Charlotte says in her tiny voice.

"Well, I'm here just like every day," I answered, "How'd you sleep?" I hugged her tightly and rocked side-to-side the way I knew always made her giggle.

Sure enough, her melodious jingling laugh could be heard. It was muffled though, because her face was buried into my chest. Charlotte rolled out of my hug and said, "Matty, I dreamed a weird dream again."

"The one where I fall down a well?" I asked. I knew she had been having strange dreams for the past couple of weeks now. They always involved me. Sometimes, she told me, it scared her and I was worried for her.

She once came crying to me in the dark of the night, telling me strange stories of how I was battling crazy mad men and I got hurt. She didn't specify the injury because she broke out in more fits of tears and I wasn't about to make her. She was shaken up enough as it is.

She nodded solemnly. "The one in Mrs. Macannaly's yard," Charlotte pouted.

The next door neighbor.

I pulled her closer and hugged her tighter. "I promise none of that is going to happen to me, Char. Who would be stupid enough to fall down a well?" I asked.

She turned away, a wry smile spreading across her face, "You," she chuckled.

"Oh yeah?" I demanded playfully as I turned her over and started ticking her sides.

She squealed and shrieked, kicking and hitting my shoulder, demanding that I stop.

"Alright, you two," Mum's voice stops me and I look up to see her in the doorway. Mum laughed at the sight of Charlotte, who was dangling halfway off the bedside. Her princess themed nightgown was flipped upside down over her head, exposing her round belly.

I pulled her back onto my lap, smiling. Char punched my arm one last time, showing me her crooked (and some missing) teeth. She moved some corkscrew curls from her face as Mum spoke next.

"I've got breakfast on the table downstairs and it's getting cold. Charlotte, dear, someone's waiting for you downstairs—you too, Matthew. Get dressed and hurry down," Mum closed the door behind her.

"Who you think is there?" Charlotte asked me, her long dark eyelashes blinking over her chocolate brown eyes.

"Why don't you find out?" I suggest as I poke her stomach.

She laughs and I see the tiny dimples in her cheeks. "Okay!" she piled off my bed and ran from my room. Peanut barked and jogged after her on short stumpy legs.

I shook off my covers. I shuffled over to my dresser and pulled out my shirt for the day and a pair of jeans. I put them on and then found a pair of socks lying around. I bounced like a grasshopper (with only one leg) around my room as I tried putting on my socks.

"Grandpa!" Charlotte yells from downstairs. Having heard his name, it only made me want to get down there faster.

I ran into the bathroom in the hall (decorated with butterflies, to suite Char, even though we shared it), and quickly brushed my teeth and combed my equally as dark hair as Charlotte's. Then I hopped down the stairs to see my grandfather.

They were in the kitchen when I turned in, my family was seated around the table.

"Hello Matthew boy, how are you son?" Grandpa turns in his seat to greet me.

"Great now," I reply cheerfully, "What brings you here?"

Grandfather chortles at this, a deep humorous laugh. "Why can't I come to see my favorite grandchildren without being questioned? Come and sit and be merry. Your mother made some delicious flapjacks and I'd hate to eat them all," he said in a tone that very much meant he's love to eat us out of house and home.

"Sure Grandfather," I came to sit at the table and dished myself out some breakfast, munching on a bacon strip as I did so. "Even though we are your only grandchildren…" I munched.

He smiled, "You are too witty for your own good. Just like my daughter."

My mother smiled, "Aw, thanks Dad. I believe intelligence runs in the family."

Charlotte piped up from across the table, just a head floating above her plate, and asked, "Can you tell us a story please, Grandpa?"

"A story?" he questioned, his old brown eyes flashing, but joyous, "I suppose so. Once upon a time—"

"No, no! Not _that_ one! We've heard that one too many times already!" Char complained, sticking her breakfast with a fork. She stuffed half of a whole flapjack in her mouth at one time.

He laughed again, as did Mum and I. We always enjoyed Grandfather's stories. It was classic family bonding time and Grandpa never left our home without mentioning some sort of tidbit in any of his various stories.

"Okay, love, which one would you like to hear?" he asked, leaning across the table.

I chewed as she thought. Her eyes lit up and she told him, "How about the one with your brother and sisters?"

"Ah," he said, thinking as if going back into a memory. For a glimpse of a moment my 85 year old grandfather seemed to be truly his age and not his young, happy, energetic spirit as we normally saw him. His white eyebrows drew together, making the wrinkles around his face protrude even further. Then the expression faded as he seemed to get a grip on how he was to tell this story that we've heard so many times.

"When I was a lad of only thirteen, my brother and sisters were shipped away because the year was 1940, and we were smack dab in the middle of the war. Air-raids literally bombed us out of our home and onto a train where we would spend time in an old mansion with a man named Professor Digory Kirke…" As Grandfather sunk deeper and deeper into his riveting tale, I looked to see Charlotte's brown eyes widen with amazement when he described having fallen through a wardrobe, into a completely new world.

"It was known as Narnia," he explained, and continued with his story.

Mum seemed equally as entranced into his narrative as Char was. She rested her elbow on the table with her head in her hand, a dreamy look in her eyes, and watched Grandfather as if she were imagining the story as he told it.

We sat there listening to his story, Charlotte occasionally asking questions, and I occasionally reaching across the table for more bacon, yet all of us were too engrossed in his story to focus everything on our meal.

Eventually, the tale drew to a close. Grandfather finished with, "My brother, Edmund, and my sisters, Susan and Lucy, grew up in Narnia, ruling over the land as its Kings and Queens. One day, while taking a ride through the wood, we came to a light post. It seemed vaguely familiar to my sisters, brother, and I, but Lucy was the first to step from her horse. She led us back to the other side of the wardrobe, back in the year 1940! And the tricky part is," he held up a boney finger, "we were young again! We talked for weeks about our adventured in Narnia, maybe even months after we left—we never forgot the wondrous world or the magic." He ended.

"Of course though, Grandpa, this isn't real. You could've never gone to this make-believe world, or battled the sorceress, Jadis, or became a ruler over this make-believe land." I began clearing the table, as I saw everyone was long finished with their breakfast.

"I believe in it!" Charlotte shouted. The stuffed puppy fell from her arms and she bent over to pick it up.

Meanwhile, Mum gave me a look. "I think it is best if you believe in whatever you wish, however you don't go breaking other's beliefs. Don't you?" She eyed me closely.

"Yes Mum," I answered, as Char popped back up in her seat.

"Oh Matthew dear, can you feed Nutmeg out back for me? The Macannaly's said we could use the water from their well, so I want you to use it, because the hose outback has holes in it."

Without a second thought I said, "Sure Mum, I'll get right on it," I set the plates that were in my hands in the wash bin and went to the backdoor. I slipped on some work shoes, laced them up tightly, and went outside.

I climbed down the steps into our yard and said 'Hello' to Nutmeg, the mare, in her single stall in the lone barn in our backyard. Her chestnut brown head shot out of the opening in her stall and she whinnied. I waved, and walked over into the next yard over.

I walked right up to the old stone well and peered down. It was dark, regardless the daylight, and it seemed to stretch on for miles. I looked up to a rope just above my head and tugged on it. I pulled and pulled, reeling in the rope, until I could see the brim of the wooden bucket. It was full to the top with sloshy water and I reached for it.

Before I knew it, the rope snapped. I made to catch the falling bucket.

Wrong move.

I toppled over the low stone wall and tumbled head first into the black abyss. I yelled as I fell like a stone over a cliff, bracing myself to hit the water, and scratching at the walls on either side of me to get a hold on to any gap in the bricks. It was useless, for any moment now I was going to be sleeping with the fishes.

Only I never hit the water. Instead, I hit dirt, grass, ground. I collided with the earth, hard on my left knee and I slumped over exhausted from the sudden incident. Before I could lift myself up again, I collapsed into unconsciousness.

****How am I doing so far? Reviews wanted, encouraged, etc. Thank you!****


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

When at long last I came to, I lay still, frozen like icicles on a snowy winter's day. The sun blinded me and I blinked at the sky, turned my head and blinked at the stalks of timber, shrubs, rocks, and things of nature around me.

Trees everywhere. A soft wind swept through the forest and the sunlit trees danced with it, their branches flowing in the breeze. Flustered, I picked myself up off the grass and continued to study the new findings around my person.

Suddenly, I turned on my heel. How peculiar…I thought I heard someone exhale with amuse. But when I peered through the copse of evergreens and over short leafy bushes, not a soul could be seen.

I had only been hearing things. I took a right nasty fall and maybe….

Oh my…

I was dreaming again! Everything was as it should be. This strange place was an exact copy to the images in my dream. Every last tree to the very toadstool growing beside the fallen log. Even the blasted dirt smear on my leg had all the correct scratch lines. Down to the very last pinprick blade of grass, or pebble by my toe. Not a thing was seemingly out of place.

So then, I wonder…

I waited. Only a second I paused, until that vague sound of wood snapping arrived to my ears. I whipped around, all too knowing what stood there, yet my eyes grew as big as saucers (regardless what I knew) at the sight.

He was even more gloriously majestic in this dream than I remembered. I was terrorized with a strange calmness. It settled over me like a warm plush blanket.

The lion's eyes were piercing; even so, they were gentle. He blinked once, standing as if posing for a mosaic. The image was right out of a painting. The lion shone with a radiance I can only describe as Godlike. A halo of light surrounded his hefty, broad, muscular—powerful being and his tan coat streaked with gold.

I swallowed.

"Son of Adam," his voice penetrated my wall of muddled emotions, "Come, we must seek shelter from these woods." The creature turned, a twitch in its ear, and walked a pace or two deeper into the greenwood before sparing a moment to gaze back at me with knowing eyes. He lifted his head slightly, "Cair Paraval is in need of your aid." His whiskers rippled upon his muzzle as I caught a glimpse of what I believed to be a smile.

He waited for me to accompany him, as I took reluctantly slow and apprehensive steps towards him. My legs and feet shook as I walked alongside the beast, my voice box incapable of producing dialogue.

"Why so quiet, young one?" he asked without turning his maned head to me and took more silent measured steps. "Cat got your tongue?" He laughed, a deep rumbling sound in the back of his throat.

I opened my mouth to speak and finding that I was still at a loss of words, I clamped it shut tight once again. I cleared my throat, "Sir—"

I saw him acknowledge me out of the corner of my eye, but he didn't speak.

"Am I in a dream?" I cautiously questioned the lion.

"Does this seem like a dream?" he answered a question with a question.

I looked around and up between the branches of the overhang above. I listened to the birds in the canopy, which were immersed in a unique, delicate, uplifting chorus. And I felt the rough scratchy bark of the trees with the tips of my finger. "No….Sir," I answered.

He grunted. "Young one, I fear you have a thing or two to learn about dreams. These trees, this grass, and that rock, are all part of something much bigger than themselves," He looked to each object as he named them off, "You and I are also members in this scheme, however much bigger as any number of those squirrels scampering in above our heads now. You, Son of Adam, are in no such dream."

"Sir, can I ask where I am?" Questions upon questions bombarded my brain, each begging to me to be answered. He seemed like a friendly lion, however fierce he also appeared, so I managed to speak to the beast, even if only a sentence.

"A land you are familiar with. You've heard of this world only in tales, however you do know of it," the wise old lion said.

I thought hard, "The only stories I can remember was that of a place named Narnia—"

A solid blink was all I needed from him.

Flabbergasted, I said, "But if this is Narnia, then what my Grandfather said was true. And—and that makes you Aslan," I realized grimly. I quickly dropped to my knees in an awkwardly messy bow. I was angry with myself for being such a half-wit.

This is Narnia. This is The Lion, and my Grandfather's stories were true, so indeed Aslan was not a _tame _lion. I was a fool for thinking otherwise on—on everything.

"Rise, Son of Adam," The Lion directed, and I did as I was told. "Do you know why I brought you here?" He asked, his voice gruff, "My land is in need of your assistance and I fear those who do not believe cannot truly help this land. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but—"

"As I recall, you never trusted in my world. You thought of it, in all its entirety, merely entertainment. Nothing more."

"But Aslan, it was only a fairytale then—"

"So you must see to believe, am I incorrect?"

"No Sir," I rubbed the back of my neck with a dirty, aching hand. I felt as if I was only a small child being scolded.

"Then I hope your visit here can change your perception on things both within and without yourself."

"Aslan, why me? Do you know who I am?" I could not even begin to believe why He chose me…me! Out of a world full of better, more equipped people.

He growled, showing diamond-like, razor sharp teeth. It made me jump back a few inches from that unpredicted outburst.

His voice was harsher now, "Of course I know who you are. Matthew James Bollard, Son of Adam, and grandson to High King Peter of Narnia," He softened His voice to the level of a purr, "The question is: do you know who _you_ are?"

I hung my head in defeat. Grandpa ruled here as Narnia's king—as I knew only from his adventurous tales. But now I knew (with all the evidence around me) that they were not stories. They were fact. Grandfather is a king. And I am in the very land he ruled over.

At that instant, we came to the edge of the wood. We stood upon a ledge of a small cliff, overlooking the land below.

Tents dotted the wavy green hills. Tents of all shapes and sizes. All were a crimson red color and the heavy cloth gave in little to the wind.

However they weren't the only things down below. Creatures, both real and from fantasy, could be seen moving about amongst the red clumps. Half-goat men, cheetahs, centaurs, jaguars, all of those from the stories, were here. They moved about dressed heavily in armor from head to toe. Some were toting weapons along, others were sparring with each other, their sword clanging loudly across the land, a few were blacksmithing and then there were those who just sat around a pot over a fire, laughing and passing something around in the circle.

"This," The Lion started, "is what is left after an attack on the ruins of Cair Paraval. Five hundred men and women retreated to these hills, where they wait for one of noble blood to lead them."

"What of the King and Queen?"

"King Joseph and Queen Maria both perished in the battle that led these warriors here. The King was attempting to rebuild Cair Paraval to its former glory when The Nomads attacked."

My brow furrowed, "The Nomads?"

"The free-roaming souls and spirits who wish to keep the old ways of the land. Even after the laws of the kingdom have changed and many years have already passed. For hundreds of years The Nomads have terrorized my people, drove many into hiding, and for a while now they have destroyed all ideas of peace."

I watched the empty space between my boots, "Aslan, why don't you lead them? You're King of everything—" I looked back up only to see that The Lion had vanished into thin air. Gone. I pivoted to look within the forest, "Aslan?" But I found nothing.

I stood alone on that ledge. Just then, a vicious kite-flying type gust of wind flew in over my head, flinging my dark hair over my eyes. As the wind brushed over me, I heard the voice of Aslan. It drew with the air, as if it _was_ the air. He was saying, "Do you know who _you _are?"

****Hello again readers! (: How am I faring so far? Please inform me in your reviews, they are much appreciated. I am an author in the making, and I would love for any suggestions on my techniques if you have them. More to come as soon as I am able.****


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four:

I stood on top that ledge only a moment longer, overlooking the bustling camp, until my attentions came to a rock ledge slanting downwards to the ground below. I took that slanted path, holding onto the ivy vines and the plant growth cloaking the boulders and rocks.

Once on level ground again, I thought it best to seek out the general-or captain-or whoever was in charge of the camp. I approached with great caution, trying not to draw any gazes. However, my efforts proved futile.

Creatures everywhere halted their work to stare at me. A giant horned beast stopped beating its hammer upon a red hot slab of metal to stare at me with dark ember-like eyes. Big cats paused like statues, the only life being that of their tails: flicking in the air behind them, like a pendulum. Their eyes were a tad bit more curious. Great horse-men stood twice as tall as I (maybe even more so), garbed in heavy-leaded armor, all of which seemed fierce as their eyes bore down on mine soul. There were more animals and monsters alike, all from only that of fairytales and stories. Stories that proved to be true, I now knew.

Suddenly a small, but proud voice, came out from within the crowd of fantastical beasts around me. "Eh, two-legger, what kind of animal might you be?"

I stopped, nearly tripping over myself. "Uh, my name is Matthew," I began, unsure of what the strange voice wanted.

"That's a bit peculiar," the voice said, "I've never heard the likes of any beast called a Matthew."

"I am not a beast," I insisted forcefully, getting uncomfortable from the gazes all leveled on me, "I am a human."

The voice was no more.

The huddle of animals in front of me split into two separate sides, making room for an extra-small walkway. And in that walkway, scampered a ferret. Or, rather, what I believed to be a ferret—he was about two sizes too big to _really_ be a ferret. Yet, he had all the markings on his face and his paws were the same of any other ferret, however they were larger.

"You mean to say, you are a Son of Adam?" The voice seemed to be coming from the overly-large rodent at my feet. His mouth looked as if to be moving, and I heard sound escape it…maybe I was only going mad.

"Y-yes," I answered apprehensively.

"Pay your respects warriors!" The ferret shrieked and bowed low to the ground, his furry little tail reaching high.

A wave emanated around me, each creature bent in my direction. I suddenly remembered Grandfather's stories once again. Things like this happened to him and his siblings on a daily basis. I also remembered him telling me that he was looked upon as royalty.

So would that make me a prince? A king? A royal? After all, Narnia's king and queen perished on the seize of Cair Paraval….Which begs me to ask, was I brought here to become the next ruler over all of Narnia?

"Uh…" I stood, dumbfounded, and gaped at all the monsters around me in their lowered position. "You don't have to bow."

The ferret straightened and stood on its hind legs, looking at me with a beady glint in his beady eyes. "Of course we do your heiness, we only wish to show our loyalty to the young new leader of our division."

…Well, that answers that question.

"Didn't you have a leader before?" I asked.

"Only until you just came," answered the fuzzy ferret.

"Can't he lead you?"

"No, my liege, he cannot. He is not of noble status."

"Who is it?"

"Captain Steeley."

"Where is he? Where might I find him?" Surely, he wouldn't make me, a teenager, lead all these brave souls into battle. I could convince him otherwise. I was always really good with persuasion.

The creatures within and without the crowd laughed and chuckled at my questions, as did this strange ferret.

"My boy, you're lookin' at him," the ferret smiled, showing me sharp, pointed (and plenty of) teeth.

"You!" I burst with an amused laugh, "But you're so tiny!" Really, he was only about the size of a small…small…dog. Like Peanut.

The ferret shifted and looked upon me with a new seeming gaze. Within a new light. With new glass-like eyes, he was measuring me, taking me in, soaking in every last detail with such unashamed boldness, that I almost folded into that unwavering stare.

I almost hadn't notices the mob around me had gone graveyard silent. I knew I had stepped on the wrong territory.

"My liege," The ferret began, a sigh punctuating his sentence, "That's what I thought when I first saw you, but I had the ability to hold my tongue."

It felt as if I had been knocked of a pedestal ten stories high. The blow hurt even more, like reoccurring resonation, when the armored fighters surrounding me howled with belly-fulls of chuckles.

I bit my tongue—hard, and hung my head. My whole stature was awkward now, as I was knocked into place.

"Come with me, heiness. I shall show you to your tent," the ferret's voice was as forgiving as his dark eyes when at last I met them. As he stood on his hind legs now, looking oddly human, he turned to the rest of the soldiers, "As you were," he demanded.

The warriors dispersed, unlocking their places on the turf around me, and continued with their goings-on before I had arrived.

When I followed behind this obviously declared ferret, I finally noticed something I hadn't before. A belt he wore across his midsection; it was the color of rich dark wood, so it blended in perfectly with the same shaded fur. The belt had a small empty loop on its side (his hip) which is where I assumed a sword would find its home. However it would be a _small_ sword. Undersized to say the very least.

We'd walked nearly the span of the camp when at long last we the ferret spoke again. He tilted his head at a slight angle, but didn't bother turning to address me. He said, "Might I ponder your thoughts young one?"

The tone and term 'young one' reminded me of Aslan. Briefly, I wondered where he was at the moment. If he was anywhere near. If he was watching, if only from a distance.

The ferret broke my quick thought, "You are quite mute to be a descendant of the High King," he remarked as if only observing, much like a marine biologist to some rare, never-been-filmed species of fish.

"Grandfather? What's this got to do with him?" I snapped. "How do you know we are related?"

"Aha!" the ferret roared gleefully, "He speaks!"

I glared at the peculiar fuzzball. One minute he seemed to have authority, well collected and looming over you like a shadow (though his was_ small)_, and the next, he was shrieking like a madman.

"Nothing. However I know his youngest sister was quite a blabbermouth." He ended his spout, completely ignoring my last question.

"That's my Aunt Lucy you're speaking of, mate," I said, warning building up in my throat. I caught it, and harnessed it, knowing he doesn't take kindly to my…er…me.

"My apologies." He gave a curt bow.

"Could I ask how you know of my Aunt?" I asked. Truly, I was wondering.

"You may," he paused, now walking alongside me, "You might say I'm the cousin of the great great great—I don't know how many greats—grandson of Reepicheep. The bravest mouse your grandfather, uncle, and aunts, ever knew," he seemed to get caught up in thought a moment, "Of course, I only know this from a long line of storytelling."

"I know how that feels," I stated, thinking back to all the Narnian tales I was told. "And I know of this Reepicheep. Aunt Lucy loved him dearly."

"That she did," agreed the ferret. Before I knew it, we had stopped in front of yet another crimson tent.

"Here we are, watch your head majesty," he parted the flaps, making a slit between the two folds. I stepped through.

The inside was lavishly decorated, even for a tent. Beads, gold medallions the shape of a six pence, and many other miscellaneous decorations hung about in no particular order. However, it was beautiful anyway. A bed lay clean and made next to a crock pit filled with logs. A trunk sat stout and bulky on the opposite side of the tent.

"Does it suffice to your expectations, majesty?" the ferret's voice suddenly fills the air, making me jump. I'd forgotten he'd followed me in here.

Expectations?

"It's wonderful. Thank you Captain," I said, pushing down on the edge of the bed with my hand. Satisfied with it, I plopped down on the side.

"My pleasure, and please, just Steeley," the ferret grinned.

I nodded.

With one paw out of the tent, Steeley turned again at me, "Just so you are informed, I don't despise you…But I'm not sure I'm what you say—fond of you, either," says he if only speaking facts.

And scarily, it was fine with me.

***Here is chapter four, overdue, in my opinion. School really takes it out of you, but I'm glad I could get this in when I did. Reviews wanted and appreciated! :D Enjoy!***


End file.
